Hello, Oblivion
by drookit duck
Summary: Little Spuffy fic I wrote in my English class one boring Wednesday... Spike contemplating suicide.


Hello, Oblivion - Drookit Duck.

_A.N.- Hey all! Ok, tried another Spike/Buffy fic... not too sure how it is, though, so would appreciate feedback muchly :) This is a one shot which I wrote in English... although in retrospect studying for my Higher exam might have been a more useful use of my time...nah, ENJOY!_

This is post 'Crush' just after Buffy slammed the door on Spike.

I own nothing, literally...well maybe some things...small meaningless things! Don't sue me!

Spike sat down on the kerb; head in hands, hands resting on his knees. He was confused, wounded and tired. It would have been sane to collect the rags of his ego and crawl home to sleep... but he didn't really feel all that sane right now. It would have been so much easier if he had just killed Dru and the Slayer...and possibly Harmony...but that hadn't worked out quite so badly. No, the sun would be up in 5 minutes. He could just stay here and burn up into ash. Right in front of Buffy's house. That would surely make the bitch feel _something._ But pity, though? Did he want pity? No. Pity was not what he wanted. Maybe she'd laugh. Maybe she might even feel guilty. He doubted it, but anything was possible.

Four minutes until oblivion. Say 'Hello, Oblivion' (yes, I have been watching Rocky Horror)

The click and shuffle from behind announced that Buffy was standing on the stoop. Spike could smell her. She was still angry at him... outraged. She stood still, but the buzzing emotion of hatred and anger pulsated from her. Spike didn't move. She was going to stake him, he knew it. But wait - there was another emotion lingering around her; love?Pity?Sympathy?

Spike still didn't move.

Buffy stepped forward. Spike tensed slightly, waiting for the stake, but the sharp, jagged pain which he expected did not come. Instead, a hand was laid on his back. He slowly looked up, too shocked to say anything. Buffy sat beside him. So small, she was so small.

"I'll leave." he said, gathering his wits and assuming she was going to tell him to piss off. Perhaps even take the door from it's hinges and batter him with it?

"No you won't." she said, "You're waiting on the sun."

He blinked, stunned by her understanding.

"I don't love you. I'll never love you" she said, Spike wanted to push his jaw shut with his fist... she was... opening up to someone?Him! "But I don't want you just to poof yourself into dust." she said, not looking at him.

Spike couldn't help a chuckle, "That's not what you were saying earler, love." He remembered her words, _'I want you off this planet!'_ He cringed slightly at the memory.

Buffy cupped her hands together and looked down at them with a forced interest, "Spike. Earlier I was..."

"Angry?" he offered.

"Absolutely furious!" she corrected.

Spike lowered his head. _'Expect a staking, Spike. Expect a bloody staking'_ he told himself.

"You can't just demand what you want when you want it." she said, feeling her intense anger rising again.

The sunlight slowly began to glow onto the surroundings. Spike didn't move, but he tensed in anticipation. Buffy watched his hunched figure. Maybe he didn't deserve this. He was evil. He was used to taking what he wanted. He needed to learn, to accept different parts of normal unevil existence. The chip restrained him, he had to learn to rise above it.

But did that necessarily mean that she should not kill him?

He was helpless.

Sort of.

_'That was pretty philosophical'_ she realised, shocked by her own thoughts.

The sun was creeping up. Spike could feel the light heating up his skin. He'd die here. Beside the Slayer. Unwanted and useless, and feeling like shit.

Buffy noticed his skin beginning to smoke as the sunlight became more concentrated. She stood up and reluctantly held out a hand. Spike looked at it, unsure of what she was offering. Was she actually inviting him into shelter from the lethal light, or was she baiting him; playing with him? If he accepted would she simply break his arm and ram a wooden stake through his chest?

Buffy also wasn't quite sure what she was doing, _'I hate him!'_ she told herself, _'Why am I saving him?'_.

Spike could now physically smell his flesh cooking. That wasn't good. He had two choices; take her hand and face possible...Ok,Ok _definate_ death, or he could stay here and face definate death. Wow, what a choice. He'd definately have to think about _that_ one. He grasped her hand and she lead him quickly into the house.

It was late. It was cold. Spike stumbled drunkenly out of Buffy's house, an unlit cigarette between his lips and a lighter held loosely in his hand. Buffy stood in the doorway giggling as Spike attempted and failed to light the cigarette.

"Stupid bloody...fire-thingy." he said throwing the 'stupid-bloody-fire-thingy' away. "That was fun, Slayer." he said, turning his attention back to her, "I'll not forget it...could've done myself an injury if I'd stayed outside...I don't tan." he said.

Buffy giggled again, but then said more seriously, "I'm glad we did it." she said.

Spike smirked and headed off home. Buffy stood at the door watching him go. Dawn and Willow came up behind her, both looked teary eyed like they'd been crying. "I can't believe you did that." Dawn said, hugging herself tightly.

"What?" Buffy asked.

"Let him read you that poetry." Willow said, "It was so...sweet."

"Yeah, well I figured it'd make him feel better." Buffy smiled.

And the door closed again.

_A.N. - I know! Unbearably sweet and mushy! I'm so disappointed with myself, no fun at all! Maybe someone'll like it. You never know! luv Hani xXx btw, Rocky Horror kicks ass! Views anybody? Fic related or otherwise._


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